It's somewhere past two in the morning, and here I am writing about myself. There are surely better things to write about, right? But, hey, the obligatory about section does need to be updated, so ... The first thought comes is simple. Thank you. If you wandered to this part of the site, I'm grateful, truly, though I implore you to buy, borrow or steal my stories - they are far more interesting than me.
Nonetheless, when it comes to me, what it comes to is gratitude. To be able to write and to share is something which fulfills me. To be able to live the life I live, I am thankful. That's about as much you need to know right now, the rest can be discovered another time. (The rest including no more than coffee, Melbourne City, eating out, cocktail bars, tattoos, sport and a memory of blue mountains of east Victorian bushland in which much of this rest was formed).
But there is a mind burgeoning with too many stories to tell: thoughts from experiences and ideas, words on paper, on screens; words read and felt, words nothing without a mind attached to them. From the creator to the reader, who becomes the owner. Words, a passion. Words, a function. Words, a flicker of expression.
I'm a storyteller, in the guise of a novelist. The stories I tell are the ones I feel I need to tell. They dance with romance, ache with matters of the heart, conflict with everyday problems, and ultimately boil down to exploring the modern tradegies, inspirations and conflicts we face. No story is extraordinary, but an extraordinary example of something that most can relate to.
I hope you enjoy the journey, whichever you take.